


Trust Me?

by Lord_Morzahn



Series: Fictober 2020 [15]
Category: The Golden Rose (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Morzahn/pseuds/Lord_Morzahn
Summary: When Alessa is injured, the MC takes her wellbeing into their hands. (Fictober 2020, Prompt 26)
Relationships: Alessa/Main Character (The Golden Rose)
Series: Fictober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081712
Kudos: 3





	Trust Me?

"How about you trust me for once?" You ask gently, sick of her posturing. "You're in no state to do this on your own."

Alessa scowls, her face contorted in a grimace partly from displeasure at having to rely on others, even if that someone is you, and half from the pain, you'd wager.

The cut is long across her back, and deep enough to need stitches. If you left her like this, she'd try to do it herself with the mirror, probably.

Her expression falls as she heaves a weary sigh, shoulders slumping. "You're right." She admits quietly. "I can't do this myself."

Quiet relief fills you. "Ok. I'm going to prep the needles. Can you get your shirt off?"

She blushes furiously, so suddenly that you're worried about all the blood flow making her woozy and setting off her cut again. "Ex-excuse me?"

"I'm not working through it. You'll be lying down for this anyways." You say, pouring alcohol over the needles and your hands. When you look up, she still has her shirt on, staring at the carpet while perched on the edge of the bed.

You kneel in front of her, her eyes unseeing. You place your hands gently on her thighs, drawing her focus back to you. "Can I help?" You ask gently, fingers reaching up to toy with the hem of her tunic.

Wordlessly, Alessa nods, biting her lip. Slowly, you guide her shirt off of her body, fingers caressing her skin from hip to shoulder and down her pale, toned arms.

You go around to sit on the bed and look at her back. The cut runs along her left shoulder blade, having severed a good portion of her undergarment. "This too." You say, taping the tattered cloth.

This one is harder for her to get out of, even with your guiding hands, and the bleeding starts up again. You quickly grab a clean cloth and apply pressure, gut twisting as she hisses.

"I'm going to clean it again before we begin." You warn.

Alessa tenses, stiff and pale as marble. "Do it." She grunts through clenched teeth.

You place the cloth at the base of the cut and gently pour the bottle over the wound. Alessa sucks in a harsh breath, her whole body quivering.

"Good girl." You whisper the praise, drying the wound. "You're doing so good. Now lie down for me."

If she dislikes the praise, she doesn't say so. Normally, you'd have gotten a biting comment about how she isn't a child or a fool in need of constant reassuring and flattery.

You think maybe she needs it right now.

You dry your hands and place your tools on the bed beside her, climbing to straddle her hips until you rest back on her butt. "Alright. This isn't going to be quick, so I need you to let me know when you need a break. And try to stay still."

You rummage for another cloth quickly. "Bite down on this."

Alessa sullenly does as you ask, and you begin the stitches. The wound is just deep enough to need them, unlucky for her. You are careful, hands stilling when she twitches and working as fast as you can while keeping the lines even.

You keep your reassurances coming, easing off to give her a break when you see the beads of sweat on her back and forehead, even though she doesn't ask for one.

After what feels like hours, you close the wound off and rest your aching hands. You can dab the wound clean once more. "It's done. It's all over. You did so well." Your hand runs soothingly along the uninjured side of her back. "I'm so proud of you."

Still, not a jab, not a snap. "Alessa?" You brush back her hair to see her exhausted expression, face paler than normal. Your heart breaks in your chest.

You let your hands trail through her hair, hoping you're being soothing. You think it must be working, because after a long moment in silence, her voice rasps to your ears.

"Can you...stay?" Alessa asks, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Of course." You whisper. Your hands stop their rhythmic motion to brush calloused fingers along her cheeks, thumbing away those tears.

"I'm gonna take care of you." You cleanup the equipment and get a loose but warm tunic-robe for her. She has to be coaxed into a sitting position slowly, her bare chest shining with sweat.

You can't bother to oogle her right now, even though you think she still looks drop dead gorgeous. She's hurt. That's not what she needs. What she needs is a bath again in the morning. Maybe just with a sponge.

You settle her back down, on her uninjured side. Knowing better than to be the big spoon, no matter how much you want to bundle her up in your arms, you claim the space right across from her, mirroring her position.

Icy blue eyes droop with exhaustion, barely able to meet your own. You brush some of her light brown hair from her face, gazing deep into those twin pools.

"Go to sleep." You whisper.

Her fingers reach out weakly, tentative, and you slowly slip your hand into hers. She holds it gently, cradled like a precious baby bird. You shuffle in closer, your knees touching. Breathing each other in.

"Will you be here when I wake?" She whispers, barely audible.

You slowly pull her hand up to your lips, pressing them against the back of it. "I'll be right here."

"I...trust you." She admits with a dreary yawn, exhaustion finally taking her to peaceful sleep. "You're...the only one I..."

She doesn't finish the sentence, but you don't mind.

Your heart is already on fire.


End file.
